


coffee shop soundtrack

by softirwin



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: ITS BEEN SO LONG WHY AM I LIKE THIS, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-28
Updated: 2014-10-28
Packaged: 2018-02-23 01:36:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,119
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2529203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/softirwin/pseuds/softirwin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Mind if I sit here?” the guy asks, and there’s a kind of apologetic hint to his tone. “Everywhere else is full.” Full? The coffee shop’s <em>never</em> full-</p>
<p>Oh. Apart from today, apparently. Every single seat is taken.</p>
<p>“Oh,” Luke says. “Uh. Sure.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	coffee shop soundtrack

**Author's Note:**

> IT HAS LITERALLY BEEN A MONTH SINCE I LAST POSTED THIS IS INCREDIBLY UPSETTING i really want to be writing more but i honestly don't have the time because i have so much schoolwork how distressing i'm hoping to be able to post another fic this week and update the office soon becauase its been MONTHS i havent forgotten i just have Too Many Other Priorities
> 
> but yes im a little rusty in terms of writing so i hope this is okay <33 
> 
> ((as always pls talk to me on [tumblr](http://irwinsvibes.tumblr.com) because im lonelier than ever now that school has started again))

Luke’s _definitely_ not feeling the winter spirit.

It’s fucking freezing outside, meaning he has to either bury his face in his scarf and half-suffocate until he gets to work or leave his face exposed to the biting wind every morning. On top of that, it’s been sleeting for the past few days and the streets are covered in dirty slush, and because Luke’s an idiot he hadn’t replaced his shoes (which have holes in both soles) before the bad weather started, so he’s got icy and wet feet for the majority of the day. And as if all that isn’t enough, he’s got a cold.

It’s fair to say he’s feeling pretty sorry for himself when he pushes open the door to the coffee shop on his way from the station to work in the morning. It’s the only good part about his morning – he always has a good half-hour to waste because there are only two trains an hour from where he lives to where he works and one gets him there way too early and one way too late, so he can sit in relative comfort in the coffee shop and watch the world pass by.

“Morning,” the barista, Calum, says when Luke walks up to the counter. Michael, the other barista, starts making Luke’s usual order behind him.

“Morning,” Luke says. There’s not really much they can talk about in the morning – Luke goes into the coffee shop every morning and most evenings too, so they discuss the day’s happenings in the afternoon. Maybe he should stop going so often.

“Sleep well?” Calum asks as Luke hands the money over. Luke shrugs.

“Yeah,” he says. “You?”

“Would have done, if it weren’t for _this_ one,” Calum mutters, jerking his head at Michael, who hits him upside the head as he turns around and slides Luke’s order onto the counter.

“I’ll fight you once my shift’s over,” Michael promises, kissing Calum on the cheek as he spins away, and Calum rolls his eyes as he hands Luke his change.

“Good luck,” Luke tells Calum, pocketing the money, and Calum grins.

“Thanks,” he says. Luke smiles back and then walks off to his usual table in the corner, putting his earphones in and pulling his copy of Jane Eyre out of his bag before putting his bag on the other seat and settling down to read.

Michael usually comes around to tell him it’s probably time for him to get going, so when someone taps him on the arm Luke pulls his music out and finishes his sentence before looking up, all ready to pack up and get ready to go. It’s not Michael though; it’s a stranger, a curly-haired, hazel-eyed guy that Luke can’t recall ever seeing in the coffee shop before.

“Mind if I sit here?” the guy asks, and there’s a kind of apologetic hint to his tone. “Everywhere else is full.” Full? The coffee shop’s _never_ full-

Oh. Apart from today, apparently. Every single seat is taken.

“Oh,” Luke says. “Uh. Sure.”

“Um,” the guy says, gesturing at Luke’s bag, still on the seat. “Is this yours?”

“Oh, shit, yeah, sorry,” Luke says, pulling the bag off the seat and putting it next to his feet. “I mean, not shit. Sorry.” The guy smiles.

“No problem,” he says. “Thanks for letting me sit here. It was a choice between here and a couple having a row over on the other side of the room, so.” Luke laughs awkwardly, unsure how he’s meant to respond to that. He’d thought the stranger would just sit down and drink his coffee, do his own thing, not make conversation with someone he’s only just met and whose bag he’s evicted from its usual place.

“Is it usually this full?” the guy continues, shrugging off his coat and draping it over the back of his chair. Luke shakes his head. “Hmm. Must be everyone off my bus, then.”

“Your bus?”

“Oh, yeah. Broke down a few roads away. Everyone must have done the same thing as me and looked for shelter from the rain,” the guy says, gesturing outside. Luke flicks his gaze away from the stranger’s curls and at the windows, which are covered in droplets of rain.

“Oh,” Luke says, hoping this will be the end of the conversation. He kind of wants to see where Jane’s outburst at Mrs Reed leaves her.

“So, what about you, stranger?” the guy says, leaning back and smiling. “What’s your story?”

“Uh,” Luke says, “what?”

“Do you come here often?”

“Um-“

“Sorry, that sounded really sleazy,” the guy apologises. “I meant, like. Are you, um. Are you a regular here?”

“Yeah,” Luke says. “My train arrives really early and this place is warm and conveniently placed and does good coffee, so.” He punctuates his sentence with a shrug, feeling uncomfortable. He doesn’t know how to talk to attractive strangers. Hell; he barely knows how to talk to people generally.

“You’re right about the coffee,” the stranger agrees, although in the entire time he’s been sat with Luke he hasn’t touched the steaming cup in front of him. “It’s not so conveniently placed for my work, though.”

“Oh?” Luke says, unsure about the etiquette of talking to strangers about their lives when they offer information so readily. Is it too much to ask where this guy works after knowing him for five minutes? Is it rude if he doesn’t ask when the question’s set up for him to ask precisely that?

“Yeah,” the guy says with a sigh. “I work pretty much on the other side of town.”

“As what?” Luke can’t help but ask. He hopes the stranger doesn’t find it too weird. Given how talkative he is, Luke doesn’t think he will.

“I’m, uh, I’m in a band, actually,” the stranger says, permitting himself a  small smile. “With those guys.” He jerks his head towards the counter, and Luke frowns.

“With Michael and Calum?” he asks, and the guy frowns too.

“You know them?” he asks. Luke shakes his head.

“Not outside of this coffee shop,” he says. The guy grins.

“You really _are_ a regular, aren’t you?” he says. Luke blushes and smiles, tearing his gaze away from the stranger’s. “Yeah, with Michael and Calum. We’re not much, but their coffee-shop jobs sustain us. And I do sessions for other bands sometimes. That’s what I’m doing all this week.”

“That’s…really cool,” Luke says, because it is. He used to want to be in a band, when he was a kid. Studying History and taking a career in financial law kind of put an end to that dream.

“What about you?” the stranger says. “What do you work as?”

“I’m a trainee solicitor,” Luke says, and the guy’s eyes widen.

“Seriously?” he asks, and Luke nods.

“I’m on a placement for a year,” he says.

“That’s fuckin’…fucking _cool_ ,” the guy says, and he sounds so _earnest_ about it that it throws Luke off a bit. After all, how many people are genuinely interested in financial law?

“Thanks,” Luke says a little shyly, feeling himself blush. “Anyway, um. Speaking of that placement, I’d probably better head there now.”

“Thanks for letting me sit at your table,” the guy says as Luke stands up and packs his stuff up.

“It was a pleasure,” Luke says, and he’s kind of surprised to find that he genuinely means it. He shrugs his coat on and turns to leave, to wave Michael and Calum goodbye, before the guy calls after him.

“Wait!” he says, and Luke stops, turns around. “I never got your name.” Which, actually, _yeah_ – they’d talked for a good fifteen minutes (or rather, the guy had spoken at Luke and Luke had acknowledged hearing it and the guy had carried on, mostly) and hadn’t got each other’s names.

“Luke,” Luke says. “Luke Hemmings.”

“Ashton,” the stranger says. “Ashton Irwin. See you around, stranger.”

(Seven people comment on Luke’s happy smile when he steps into work that morning, and Luke doesn’t grace a single one of them with an explanation.)

-

It’s raining ( _again_ ) when Luke steps into the coffee shop the next day.

“Morning,” Calum calls, wiping down the counter. Luke’s a little earlier than usual.

“Morning,” Luke says, making his way over to the counter as Michael fires up the coffee machine.

“Sleep well?” Calum asks. Luke shrugs.

“Yeah,” he says. “You?”

“I locked Michael out of the room last night,” Calum says, “so yeah, I did, actually. He’s not talking to me, though.”

“Ouch,” Luke says, pulling a face as he hands Calum the money. “Where did he sleep?”

“With our flatmate,” Calum shrugs, cashing the money in the till.

“Yeah, because Ashton _appreciates_ me,” Michael snipes, sliding the coffee at Luke. “ _Ashton_ wouldn’t lock me out of the room.”

“ _Ashton_ wouldn’t suck your dick,” Calum retorts, sliding an arm around Michael’s waist and pulling him closer. Michael pulls a face, but doesn’t pull away.

“I bet he would, if I asked him nicely,” Michael says, and Luke decides now is a brilliant time to leave this conversation because he _so_ doesn’t want to get involved in their lover’s tiff (if that’s even what they are).

“Yeah, but would he do it like _I_ do?” Luke hears Calum ask as he walks away.

“You can’t win me back with a _blowjob_ , Calum Hood,” Michael mutters, and Luke’s never put his earphones in faster, honestly.

He only gets to Jane leaving Gateshead before there’s a tap on his forearm, and Luke rips out his headphones with a frown. He’s all ready to tell Michael that there’s no _way_ it’s been nearly long enough for him to have to go to work already, but it’s not Michael standing in front of him. It’s an apologetic-looking Ashton in a leather jacket with soaking wet curls and a sheepish smile on his face, clutching a coffee cup.

“Sorry,” he says. “D’you mind if I sit here again? Our bus got diverted today and isn’t going to half the stops it usually does, so we’re all occupying your coffee shop again. Sorry.”

“Don’t be,” Luke says. It isn’t _his_ coffee shop, after all. “And, uh, sure. You can sit here.”

“Thanks,” Ashton says gratefully, shrugging his jacket off and shaking some of the rain out of his hair. Luke pretends not to stare at the way Ashton’s biceps look when he’s turning around to hook his coat over the back of the chair. “Good day yesterday? Get lots of finance legalised? Or outlawed? I don’t know how these things work.” Luke bites his lip and looks down at his coffee, trying to hide his smile.

“I don’t do either of those things,” he says. “It’s more, like. Dealing with bad loans, and stuff.”

“So, like, if people don’t pay you back?” Ashton says.

“If people don’t pay the bank back,” Luke says. “Then, uh, yeah. I mostly work on trying to get as much of the money back as possible.”

“That sounds like a pretty cool job,” Ashton says. Luke knows he’s just being polite.

“Nothing compared to being in a band,” he says. Ashton grins.

“Not when your band’s comprised of an old married couple and yourself,” he says. “Calum locked Michael out of their room last night and Michael had to room with me, and he’s _so_ pissed off about it.”

“I know,” Luke says, pulling a face. “Calum was promising Michael a blowjob when I left them.” Ashton laughs, and Luke finds himself smiling even though he doesn’t really know what’s funny; Ashton’s laugh is just so… _cute_.

“Nice,” Ashton says, shaking his head fondly. “See what I have to live with?”

“I think the threat of blowjobs is probably less bad than the actual blowjobs,” Luke points out.

“Which I _also_ have to live with,” Ashton says. “I can imitate every single one of Michael’s sex noises, I swear to God.”

“Please don’t,” Luke says. “I don’t know if my libido could withstand it.” Ashton laughs again, and Luke feels a little curl of pleasure unfold itself in his stomach. He’s not usually very good at talking to people, let alone making them laugh.

“It’s a wonder mine’s still hanging on in there,” Ashton agrees. “They’re the _worst_ flatmates.”

“I’ll bet,” Luke mutters. They’re bad enough working the same shifts in a coffee shop.

“Jane Eyre?” Ashton asks, cocking an eyebrow at the front cover of Luke’s pretty-much discarded book. Luke looks down, having completely forgotten it was there, and nods.

“I’ve only just started it,” he says. “I’m only at Jane leaving Gateshead.”

“I won’t spoil it for you, then,” Ashton says.

“I know what happens,” Luke says. “I read the last chapter first.” Ashton rolls his eyes.

“You’re one of _those_ people,” he says, mock-disgusted, and Luke grins.

“I like to know what I’m letting myself in for,” he says, half-defensively. “I don’t like surprises.”

“Where’s the fun in life if you always know what’s coming next?” Ashton asks.

“Where’s the fun in constant heart attacks from not knowing what’s going to happen next?” Luke counters, and Ashton inclines his head with a grin, conceding.

“Luke!” Michael shouts from the counter, interrupting Ashton before he has the chance to reply. “Off you go!”

“I’d better leave,” Luke says half-regretfully, standing up. “See you around?”

“Well, I’m not going to tell you if you will or not,” Ashton says, grinning. “I’ll be the little bit of spontaneity you’re clearly missing in your life.”

“Thanks,” Luke says. “When I die of a heart attack, I want your name as my epitaph.”

“No problem,” Ashton says. “Have a good day, Luke.”

“You too, Ashton.”

(“You’ve been _very_ happy over the past two days,” Mark, the other guy on a placement says to Luke when he gets into work. “Are you finally getting laid?”

Luke kicks him in the shin.)

-

It’s not raining on Wednesday, for the first time in about three weeks.

“Morning,” Calum says, when Luke walks over.

“Morning,” Luke replies.

“Sleep well?” Calum asks.

“Yeah,” Luke says. “You?”

“Yeah,” Calum says, grinning.

“Kick Michael out again?” Luke asks, handing Calum his money.

“Nope,” Calum says, cashing the money in the till and handing Luke his change. “It was our friendship anniversary, one of the few nights in the year where Michael’s not allowed to be a knob.”

“Friendship anniversary?” Luke asks.

“Mhmm,” Michael says, handing Luke his coffee. “It’s the day he first called me his best friend.”

“You guys sicken me,” a third voice says, and Luke spins around to find Ashton ambling into the coffee shop.

“Really, Ash,” Michael says. “If you’re going to be here every morning, why don’t you just give us a lift?”

“Because I get the _bus_ ,” Ashton says.

“You can still drive,” Calum says dismissively. “What are you having?”

“What do you get, Luke?”

“Me?” Luke asks. “Uh-“

“Vanilla latte,” Michael supplies.

“I’ll have that, then,” Ashton says. Calum throws him a funny look.

“You only ever drink coffee blacker than the depths of the universe’s largest black hole,” he says.

“Maybe he’s finally trying something sweeter to balance out the bitterness in his soul,” Michael offers, already making Ashton’s drink.

“Thanks, guys,” Ashton says sarcastically. “See if I drum for you tonight.”

“We can play acoustics,” Michael says. “We can be a band without you, but you can’t do anything without us. What are you gonna do, join a jazz band and play sax?”

“You play sax?” Luke asks Ashton. “And drums?”

“And piano, and guitar, and he sings,” Calum says. “Quite a gifted boy, our Ashton.” He reaches over the counter to ruffle Ashton’s hair and Ashton wrinkles his nose, ducking out of Calum’s reach.

“Stop embarrassing me,” he says. “Give me my drink and I’ll go and sit down.” Speaking of which, actually, Luke’s had his drink for the past five minutes and still hasn’t sat down. Would it be awkward if he went to sit down now? Should he wait for Ashton? Does Ashton even want to sit with him?

“Aren’t you gonna pay?” Calum asks when Michael hands Ashton his drink.

“I’ll consider paying next time if you consider installing soundproof walls in yours and Michael’s bedroom,” Ashton says. “C’mon, Luke.” So, okay, not weird if he sits with Ashton.

“We won’t be able to afford soundproof walls if we get fired for letting customers have drinks without _paying for them!_ ” Michael shouts as Luke and Ashton make their way over to the table they’ve sat at for the past two days and make themselves comfortable.

“What’s your excuse today?” Luke asks when they’ve both sat down, not even bothering to take his book out, and Ashton grins.

“Got the early bus,” he says. “I didn’t really want to stay in the flat when it had turned into Lovebird Central this morning.”

“You left before Michael and Calum and _still_ managed to get here after them?” Luke asks. Ashton shrugs, looking a little sheepish.

“They walk,” he says.

“You live within walking distance and still took the bus?”

“Who are you to question my choices?” Ashton grumbles good-naturedly, stirring his latte. “I freeze my _balls_ off in the morning if I don’t get on the bus.”

“It’s not even raining today,” Luke says. “And why did you get a different drink?”

“Woah, what is this, CSI?” Ashton asks, putting his hands up. “I’m innocent, your honour. Stop with the questions.”

“Sorry,” Luke says, and Ashton grins.

“I got a different drink ‘cause I’m the only source of impulsiveness in your life, like I said,” Ashton says. “I need to keep things spicy, keep you hooked.”

“And switching up what drink you get is going to do that?” Luke asks, raising an eyebrow.

“Baby steps,” Ashton argues. “I don’t want to give you a heart attack _just_ yet. You’re too pretty for that.” 

“I’m- what?” Ashton shrugs nonchalantly, but he won’t meet Luke’s eye and he’s blushing, and Luke can feel himself flushing too. He’s not- is he pretty? No, he’s not pretty. He’s not attractive, not like his brothers. He’s always been the lanky emo kid next to them, and he’s okay with that. He’s not _pretty_.

“You have pretty eyes,” Ashton explains after a beat. “And pretty lips. And a pretty nose.” Which, okay, seriously, how can a nose be _pretty_? And even if there were a such thing as a pretty nose, Luke’s wouldn’t fall into that category – he hates the way it flicks up at the end.

“Oh,” Luke says awkwardly. “Um. Thanks? I mean, like. Thank you.” Jesus Christ, he wishes he could shut himself up sometimes.

“How far have you got in Jane Eyre?” Ashton asks, switching the subject.

“Helen’s just died,” Luke says.

“Did you know Helen was based on Charlotte Brontë’s dead sister?” Ashton asks. Luke blinks.

“No,” he says. “She was a bit too…pious for me.”

“Me too,” Ashton says. He opens his mouth to add something else, but he’s interrupted by Michael.

“Luke!” he yells. “Move yourself!” Luke sighs, but he stands up and puts his coat on.

“I hope your sessions go well,” he says, because he has to say _something_ when he leaves.

“I hope your- uh, your day goes well,” Ashton says, clearly at a loss for what to say about Luke’s job. It’s kind of endearing.

“See you later,” Luke says, shrugging his bag onto his shoulder and making his way out of the coffee shop.

“See you later, pretty eyes,” Ashton calls after him.

(Luke blames the flush in his cheeks on the wind. Mark calls bullshit and asks how he finds the time to get laid every morning.)

-

“Morning,” Calum calls when Luke walks in. “Grumpy Drummer Number One over there bought your drink for you.”

“Oh,” Luke says, surprised. “Did he?”

“I did,” Ashton affirms, looking a little affronted. “We can all stop talking about me in third person now.”

“We talk about you in third person ‘cause we wish you weren’t _here_ ,” Michael says.

“Wait ‘til I finish this latte,” Ashton says threateningly. “I’ll chuck the glass at your head.”

“ _Child abuse_ ,” Michael says, sounding scandalised, but then another customer comes in and he has to pretend he didn’t say anything of the sort.

“Morning,” Ashton says when Luke walks over. “Bought you your coffee.”

“You shouldn’t have,” Luke says, feeling insanely guilty for no reason. This guy, Ashton, that he’s only known for _four days_ is buying him coffee. Surely that’s not fair? “Here, I’ll pay you back.”

“Don’t you dare,” Ashton says. “Spontaneity, right? Bet you didn’t think someone would be buying you your drink this morning.”

“You’re fucking up my daily routine,” Luke says, but he’s smiling as he accepts the drink. Ashton grins.

“And I’m having fun doing it,” he says. “Good day yesterday?”

“As good as it could have been,” Luke says, which is an overstatement – it had been a nightmare. “How about you?”

“Yeah, good,” Ashton says, nodding. “Nearly finished the sessions for this band. I’ve got today and tomorrow left and then their normal drummer’s coming back.”

“Are the band famous?” Luke asks. Ashton shrugs.

“Depends what kind of music you’re into,” he says.

“Try me,” Luke says.

“All Time Low?” Ashton says, and Luke gapes at him.

“ _All Time Low?_ ” he hisses. “As in, Alex, Jack, Zack and Rian All Time Low?”

“Yeah,” Ashton says. “Minus Rian, for now. He’s been in America for some family thing, so I’ve been doing the rough drum beats for their new album.”

“You know _All Time Low?_ ” Ashton laughs a little, nodding as he does so.

“Why, do you like them?” he asks teasingly.

“Like them? _Like_ them? Understatement of the year winner right here,” Luke says.

“You’re gonna have to fight Michael for the title of Wanks Over All Time Low The Most,” Ashton says. “I’m pretty sure he’s got like, a mental shrine to Jack Barakat.”

“I can’t believe you’ve been working with All Time Low and didn’t _tell me_ ,” Luke says.

“I didn’t know you liked them!” Ashton says.

“You- oh my God. What are they like in person? Does Alex smell good? Are they funny? Does Jack-“

“Oh, so when it’s _me_ asking all the questions you get all defensive, but it’s okay for you to do the same?” Ashton asks, but Luke can see the smirk forming on his lips.

“You’d better be glad I haven’t drunk this latte yet or I’d chuck the glass at your _face_ ,” Luke says.

“Wow,” Ashton says, pulling a face. “I preferred the shy, awkward Luke I met first.”

And, like, that’s actually a really good point. Luke never, _ever_ becomes this comfortable with people – it had taken him a good four months to get this comfortable with Michael and Calum, and he saw them twice a day for those entire four months, yet he’s just as comfortable with Ashton after seeing him for fifteen minutes a day for four days. That’s not normal.

“Luke!” Michael shouts.

“I hate everything,” Luke mutters, putting his coat on and shrugging his bag on over his shoulder. “Thanks for the coffee, though.”

“No problem,” Ashton calls. “See you tomorrow.”

Luke kind of really likes the butterflies in his stomach at that prospect.

-

Luke goes to the coffee shop again that evening, stopping off to get a coffee to take on the train home with him.

“Luke, my main man!” Michael shouts (which he can, because the coffee shop’s empty). “Ashton’s here. Say hello.” And, like, Luke can see for himself that Ashton’s there because he’s hopped up on the counter deep in conversation with Calum but he tears himself away from it to wave a cheerful hello at Luke and hop off the counter. Luke feels bad, but then Calum wraps his arms around Michael from behind and whispers something in his ear, and Luke chooses to stop paying attention right there.

“I’ve got something for you,” Ashton says, grinning as he pulls his phone out of his pocket.

“Sounds slightly ominous,” Luke says.

“It isn’t,” Ashton says, scrolling through something before finally clicking on something. “Alright, here you go. Don’t scream though, okay?”

“Did you kill someone?” Luke asks suspiciously as Ashton hands him the phone. “That would be a bit _too_ spontaneous for me.”

“Just watch it,” Ashton says impatiently, clicking the play button on the phone. Alex Gaskarth’s face fills the screen, and Luke’s eyes widen.

_“Luke, hey!”_ Alex says, voice tinny over the shitty speakers on Ashton’s phone. _“Ash told us you were a fan, so. Thanks, bro.”_

_“We’re big fans too,”_ Jack says, leaning into the frame.

_“Of him?”_ someone else (Luke assumes it’s Zack, because it’s not Ashton) says off-camera.

_“No, of ourselves,”_ Jack says. _“Who wouldn’t be?”_

_“We’re fans of you too, Luke,”_ Alex assures him through the camera. _“Ashton’s been going on about you all week-“_

_“I haven’t!”_

_“-so maybe he’ll let us meet you one day. Use protection!”_ The video stops there, as does Luke’s heart, pretty much.

“You-“

“Look, alright, I definitely haven’t been talking about you all week, okay?” Ashton says defensively. “And the protection thing is just their way of being funny, honestly, it doesn’t mean anythi-“

“You got me a video from All Time Low?” Luke interrupts. Ashton stops.

“Well, yeah,” he says. “I mean. You like them, right? Why not?”

“I- fuck.”

“Why, should I not have done it?” Ashton looks worried now, and Luke doesn’t know what to _say_. He’s never been good with words, never been able to put his feelings into words which is why he gave up on his dream of becoming a musician and went to work as a lawyer instead, so he goes for an action instead.

He kisses Ashton.

He kisses Ashton, the guy he’s only known for four days, kisses him hard, fierce, trying to say _thank you thank you thank you_ and _fuck you’re hot_ and _I’ve wanted to fuck you since the moment you sat down at my table_ and _thank you for teaching me to live a little you were right about that spontaneity thing_ all at once. It probably doesn’t because it’s just a _kiss_ , but whatever. The first message must be kind of clear.

Ashton laughs softly when they break apart to the sounds of Calum and Michael laughing and wolf-whistling in the background. Luke ignores them.

“I’ve wanted to do that since I first saw you at that coffee table, y’know,” Ashton says.

“Me too,” Luke says. “Thanks for teaching me how to be spontaneous enough to do it.”

“Idiot,” Ashton says, shaking his head, but it’s _fond_ , it’s fond, and Luke wants to kiss him again right now because he knows Ashton won’t mind.

So he does.

( _Fuck_ , he loves spontaneity.)

-

Luke’s late to the coffee shop the next morning because his train had been delayed, meaning he only has about ten minutes to spare rather than the usual twenty or twenty-five.

“Morning,” Calum calls when Luke finally walks in. “You’re late. Ashton said you’d pay for his and your lattes.”

“Did he?” Luke asks, glaring at Ashton. There’s no heat behind it, though, because Ashton had bought both of theirs yesterday and Luke hadn’t even drunk his, so he supposes it’s only fair. He hands over the money to Calum and tells him to keep the change because he can’t be bothered with Calum fumbling around for change in the till and makes his way over to Ashton.

“So just because I kissed you it’s my turn to pay for drinks?” Luke asks. Ashton grins.

“Spontaneity,” he says.

“Stop using that excuse,” Luke says, sitting down heavily.

“Rough morning?” Luke snorts.

“You could say that,” he says. “Train got held up and now I’ve got like, _no_ time.”

“There goes my rewarding morning chat,” Ashton says, pulling a face. “I haven’t even had time to properly discuss Jane Eyre with you.”

“I finished it last night,” Luke says, and Ashton raises an eyebrow in surprise.

“The whole book?” Luke nods. “That was fast, given how slowly you were reading at first.”

“It hooked me in,” Luke says.

“What did you think of Mr Rochester?” Ashton asks. Luke shrugs.

“I found him more abusive than romantic, but maybe that’s just my take on things,” he says.

“That’s funny,” Ashton says. “I said the same thing when Michael asked me that question.”

“Michael’s read Jane Eyre?”

“I know,” Ashton says, “I’m as surprised as you are. I’m surprised he can even _read_.”

“Is this what a loving friendship looks like?” Luke says, and Ashton snorts.

“Where’s your phone?” he asks.

“In my pocket,” Luke says.

“Give it to me,” Ashton says. “Let me give you my number so I can text you.”

“How are you going to text me if you don’t have _my_ number?” Luke asks, but unlocks his phone and hands it over anyway.

“‘Cause I’m going to text myself off your phone, obviously,” Ashton says, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world. Which, to be honest, it kind of is. “God help the future of _your_ bank. Here.”

“Luke,” Michael says, tapping him on the shoulder and seriously, when the _fuck_ did he become sneaky enough to make his way over without knocking over twelve chairs and probably an entire table? “Off you go.” Luke scowls – he much preferred it when Michael shouted from behind the counter – and gets up reluctantly, pocketing his phone again, and putting on his coat and bag.

“Aren’t I going to get a goodbye kiss?” Ashton asks.

“Do you deserve one?” Luke asks teasingly, and Ashton pouts until Luke rolls his eyes and walks over, kissing him softly.

“What are we?” Ashton mumbles. “We’ve pretty much been on five coffee-shop dates together.”

“Yeah, five over _five days_ ,” Luke says. “Hardly enough time to start dating.”

“Spontaneity, Luke,” Ashton says. “We’re definitely dating.”

“You- fuck, fine, whatever. We’re dating.”

“This isn’t very romantic,” Ashton says.

“I’m going to be late to work,” Luke says. “Financial law doesn’t have time for romance.”

“You suck,” Ashton tells him, kissing him again before letting him go.

“You don’t know that yet,” Luke says, pausing just long enough to smirk at Ashton before he walks away. His phone buzzes in his pocket as he walks off, and he stops to pull it out because he just _knows_ it’s going to be from Ashton.

**_Ashton_ ** _  
Reader, I married him._

  ** _Ashton_** _  
:) x_

Luke shakes his head and pockets his phone again, but not before he’s screenshotted Ashton’s text.

(He’s late to work, but he tells Mark that romance doesn’t wait for financial law.)  


End file.
